


Cassandra and the Correct Identity

by Lithosaurus



Series: Owl, Raven, Robin [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cassandra POV, Dragon slaying is not always easy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6934420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithosaurus/pseuds/Lithosaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While fighting the Abyssal High Dragon in the Western Approach, Cassandra learns that she’s made assumptions about the Inquisitor and that the Inquisitor is a rather awkward man who dislikes confrontation.<br/>-Can be read independent of series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted this to be one whole piece. However, I'm going to be away from laptop/internet/the country for the next two weeks. So: violà two parter.  
> edit: scratch that; 4 parts and with great delay

By the time Haven had burned and the Inquisitor had walked out of the Fade once again, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast had learned that Mahanon had a tendency to prove assumptions false. She had incorrectly assumed that he had died when Haven disappeared under a wall of ice, incorrectly assumed that he would distance himself after her revelation in Caer Oswin, and incorrectly assumed that he would stop his shy flirtations when they began to mean something. But, what she would most regret was incorrectly assuming that the Abyssal High Dragon would stop fighting back simply because it had collapsed in a bloody heap on the sand.

“She doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” the spirit materialized next to her. “she just wants to live. Scanning, searching, fighting for survival. Small things must die that she may live.” Cole turned to look at her like he was expecting an answer. She was saved by a raucous whoop.

“Yeah! Don’t get dragons in Val Roy-poo!”

“That’s a good thing, Sera. We’re trying to keep it that way.” Mahanon laughed.

The two elves continued to pick their way across the collapsed pillars and sand. Sera wildly gesturing and retelling what had just happened as Mahanon laughed and nodded along.

Visually checking the two of them for injuries, Cassandra almost didn’t catch what Cole said next.

“She knows she’s dying, she’s angry.”

She registered the word tense he used in time to catch movement out of the corner of her eye. The dragon’s head lifted shakily and its long neck coiled back like a snake about to strike. Even with lightning burns and arrows scarring its face, its eyes were sharp. She reached out a hand to drag the spirit with her as she dove out of the way but he was already gone. A plume of heat rushed through the air, too far away to be anything but unnerving. It hadn’t been aiming for her.

She drew her sword and charged the dragon’s exposed belly but threw a glance over her shoulder. Mahanon was crouched with his back facing the dragon. A tuft of Sera’s blonde hair poked over his shoulder and the tell-tale blue glimmer of a barrier surrounded them, warped slightly in the lasting heat of the dragon fire.

Cassandra drove her sword into the dragon’s gut through the soft scales at its groin. Blood gushed and a weak rumble echoed in its throat as the dragon’s head dropped. That wasn’t going to be good enough. She ducked under its limp forelimbs and scanned its neck. There was already a bleeding scrape where Mahanon had caught it with a lightning bolt. She drove the point of her sword into the wound and shoved it in with her full weight. Her weapon sunk to the hilt and blood oozed up over her hand. One last rattle of breath left the beast's lungs.

“She’s dead.” The spirit said. He almost sounded sad. He was perched on the dragon’s shoulder with his daggers in the base of its wing and ran a hand over the rust colored scales. “She was so angry, lashing out and destroying, not for food, and- and, oh no.”

“Cole, if there’s dragonlings-”

“No, the Inquisitor.” He pointed toward where Sera and Mahanon had been.

“Cassandra!” Sera screamed, she was scared, stuck in the Fade or Venatori spellbinders scared. Cassandra’s heart sunk even before she caught sight of the two elves again. The barrier was gone, replaced by smoky air. Sera was supporting Mahanon with the mage slumped over her shoulder as she tried to lower him to the ground gently. Cassandra pushed herself into one last sprint.

The smell reached her before she got close enough to get a good look. The back of Mahanon’s leathers were singed black with the cloth overcoat flaking away. The exposed skin on his neck was an angry red with blistered skin already rising and the back of his head was missing hair. Sera hadn’t entirely escaped. Her hair was singed in places and one of her ears was even redder than the other sunburnt tip. The hot, uncomfortable smell of burned skin and cloth hung in the air.

“Hey, hey, Inky, pay attention, your Seeker’s here.” Sera kept babbling as Cassandra helped her place him on the ground. Mahanon just nodded. His face was pinched, his jaws and eyes clenched from the pain.

“Sera, run to the camp, get help.” Cassandra ordered. Sera nervously looked between Mahanon and a point behind Cassandra’s shoulder.

“She trusts you more than me.” Cole whispered behind her. Usually, the spirit providing this sort of personal insight into Cassandra’s opinions would trigger an extended period of jokes and teasing but Sera wasn’t in the mood. She patted the Inquisitor’s shoulder once and broke into a run. The camp to the north was close but that wouldn’t matter with Mahanon in this shape.

“Cassandra?” Mahanon said. His fingers twitched and she took his hand instinctively.

“Don’t exert yourself, Inquisitor. The dragon is dead and Sera has gone for help.”

“Cass-” He interrupted himself with a pained scream. His back curled as the pain from the burns began to set in. “Cassandra, look, there’s going to be-” his words slurred into a moan. His grip on her hand tightened and any attempt at speaking stopped as he began to make tiny, undignified, whimpers.

“ _No, no, not like this. I should have said, should have spoke up. I was afraid, still am afraid, should have told her, should have trusted her. Too late now_. _Too late before but too late now._ ”

“Cole!” Cassandra snapped. “You are not helping.” Mahanon’s hand went limp in hers. “Inquisitor? Inquisitor! Mahanon!”

She pressed her fingers to his neck, scrambling for a pulse. She found it, racing and weak.

“He’s not going to die.” She told Cole.

“He hopes not. I hope not. He helps the pain go away.”

Cassandra gritted her teeth to keep herself from making a rash comment.

The time between Sera disappearing over the sand and her reappearance seemed to stretch and compress. Each heartbeat under her fingertips was coming too fast, pushing blood out of Mahanon and slowly seeping into his armor but taking a lifetime as they waited. It wasn’t that far to the camp, it shouldn’t be taking this long, it was barely outside the edge of the dragon’s hunting ground- why wasn’t Sera back yet?

“There! Move!” Sera shouts were the first sign of help. Two Inquisition soldiers carrying a litter crested the dune behind her. There was a tense silence Cassandra helped them move Mahanon onto it as gently as possible. Cole kept murmuring to himself about the fears of the people around him and Sera stood by awkwardly.

“We already sent a rider to Griffin Wing Keep.” One of the soldiers explained as they carried the litter as fast as they dared back up the canyon. “They’ll bring the mage on-staff but we got Oda with us. She’ll know what to do.”

Cassandra didn’t know Oda. She did know that Mahanon still wasn’t moving, that Cole had stopped muttering about things being ‘too late’, and that the last time she smelled charred flesh like this was at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Oda was ready and waiting for them. She was a tanned dwarven woman with a weathered face and a shaved head. Her bare arms were crisscrossed with scars and her left leg below the knee was replaced with hardy looking wooden prosthetic. She didn’t say anything as the litter approached, just jerked her head at the entrance of the largest tent.

Inside, the continent map had already been cleared off the war table. Bandages, poultice bottles, and a bucket of fresh water were laid out on the ground. A sheet had been thrown over the table along with an array of tools that looked like they could kill a man just as easily safe as they could save his life.

“What happened?” Oda began to cut open the back of Mahanon’s leathers with one of the knives.

“Giant fucking dragon!” Sera burst out.

“I assumed as much.”

Sera didn’t even pause. “Thing played dead ‘n then went for us rather than the one who was ten seconds from ramming a sword up its tenders. Inky got a barrier up in time but it- I dunno. The magic didn’t do its job.”

“Dragon fire can melt flesh off bones.” Cassandra vacantly remembered what Anthony had told her years ago. “The barrier did something.”

“Seriously?” One of the soldiers spoke up, she sounded ill. “And we were camped how close to that thing?”

“If you’re not helping, get out.” Oda snapped without looking up. The two soldiers back out of the tent quickly. Sera and Cole shuffled out when Oda didn’t ask further questions. Cassandra didn’t budge.

“Can you keep your head around blood?” Oda asked.

Cassandra gave her a sharp look that the healer didn’t look up to see. “Yes.”

“Good. They’re not half bad recruits but they’re young and burns aren’t a good introduction.” Cassandra had seen enough mage fire to agree. “There’re blankets in the tent next door. Get some and lay one over his legs. His body temperature drops and we’ll be fighting another battle.”

By the time Cassandra returned with the blankets, Oda had finished slicing through Mahanon’s leather jacket and had moved onto his shirt. The cloth was already soaked in blood and sweat, adhering it to his skin. The dwarf directed her to start stripping his gloves and sleeves as she began to carefully peel off what should have been the last of the clothing.

Instead, there was one more layer. A tight fitting vest made from Dalish style cloth straps looped over his shoulders and stopped midway down his rib cage with a row of delicate hooks running down the sides to hold it together. The whole thing looked rather uncomfortable and definitely painfully as it pressed into Mahanon’s burned skin.

Oda frowned as she unhooked each of the tiny metal pieces. With one last short tug, she pulled the vest out from under his chest and left Mahanon’s back open for treatment. From the nape of his neck down to his lower back, across his shoulders and the sides of his ribs, angry red skin showed the extent of the burns. His shoulder blades, which would have taken the brunt of the flame, already had off-colored blotches where blisters had started to form only to be burst under the pressure of his armor. Oda grabbed one of the buckets of water and began soak rolls of bandages to lay across the burns.

This was far from the first time Cassandra had dealt with burns. It was the worst case she had seen on someone still alive but she couldn’t help but stare. Under the burned flesh and fresh, uneven blisters that were beginning to swell, there was something off about Mahanon’s torso. There was a softness around his ribs that didn’t fit the muscled chest which fit snuggly under his casual clothes. His waist seemed far too narrow and his hips far too broad. Cassandra had previously accredited his slim build and shortness to him being an elf but now, with clothing stripped away, she began to doubt her assumptions.

“Start layering.” Oda barked, and set the bucket of water and bandages next to Mahanon’s head. Cassandra pushed her suspicions out of her mind and began to drape the cool bandages over the burned skin.

They had already removed the first batch and begun on the second when the mage arrived from Griffin’s Wing. She was human with red hair pulled back into a utilitarian knot and pale skin that was burned from the Hissing Waste’s unrelenting sun.

“Evie.” Oda grunted.

“We never see each other when things are going well.” She nodded to the dwarf as she dropped her bag at the foot of the table and leaned her staff against one of the tent poles.

“Dragon fire?” Evie asked.

Cassandra nodded.

“Did you bring the thing down?”

“Yes,”

“Then I can’t thank you enough.” She spread her hands over Mahanon’s back and Cassandra’s eyes began to itch at the inaudible hum of magic. Purple-blue light bled from between Evie’s finger but there was no change to the patches of reddened skin Cassandra could see. After several minutes, the mage stopped for a break. She took a swig from a water skin on her bag, etched an ice rune under the water bucket, and turned to stare Cassandra in the eye.

“Did you know he was a she?”

“No.”

The dwarf dropped one of the scalpels she was returning to her leather satchel. “What?”

“Oda, did you not see the breasts when you were striping your patient? Or her hips?” Evie rolled her eyes and turned to face the dwarf.

“I don’t make a point of seeing many shirtless elves. And they don’t even grow beards, they’re not exactly the image of dwarven masculinity.”

“She has breast, Oda. Not even elven men have breasts.”

“He-” Cassandra snapped before she realized she didn’t have anything to follow it with. The two women looked at her, waiting for her to finish. “-he is your patient at the moment, mage, and is still unconscious after killing a high dragon. As you said, you can’t thank him enough. Would you continue your work as a way to express your gratitude?”

“Of course, Seeker Pentaghast.” The mage answered stiffly. She took another drink of water, chased it with a small swig of lyrium potion, and resumed her work. Oda shifted the bucket of water to test the ice rune before adding more water and bandages.

With nothing else to do and a fair amount of tension in the air, Cassandra left the tent.

“You’re right.” Cole appeared at her shoulder the second the tent flap fell. She didn’t even jump, at this point she was too tired and too used to his strange ways. “You’re right but it’s not a simple right.”

“Cole, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Neither does he. Sera’s upset.” He looked at her like that was an answer.

“Sera’s upset.”

“Yes,”

“Do you think I can make her less upset?”

“Yes, that’s why I told you. She doesn’t like it when people know she’s upset.” And he sat down directly outside of the tent entrance.

Finding Sera wasn’t hard, the sound of arrows impacting on wood traveled well in the small camp. She had made an impromptu archery butt made from a bucket lodged on top of a rock at the edge of camp and was methodically peppering it with arrows.

“Stupid, dumb, idiot, stupid, overlarge lizard.” Sera muttered.

“Sera,”

“Stupid lizard shoulda tried to kill you. You wouldn’t die from something as dumb as that. Dumb as some great fucking, useless, fire breathing-”

“Sera! Mahanon’s not dead, and he’s not _going_ to die.”

“And how do you know that, huh?” Sera stopped with an arrow knocked and drawn. “You ever seen people that burned up? See what a house fire can do to someone? I’ve been in enough purges to know you don’t pop back up from something that bad, ‘kay?”

“There are already two healers working in there now. I haven’t seen many house fires but I’ve seen mage fire and Templars with mage fire scars. He. Will not. Die.” Sera released the arrow. It flew over the bucket and into the sand.

“You didn’t hear him scream when it happened.” She muttered.

Cassandra was at a loss. Mahanon appeared to have gotten through to her somehow but to most people, herself included, Sera seemed deliberately strange and offstandish. The tentative understanding that the two of them had been working on wasn’t near enough to tell Cassandra how to help Sera now.

Sera spoke broke the silence. “I’m so stupid.” She muttered and stormed toward the bucket. Cassandra followed.

“You’re not. You’re upset.” So far, she had reached the same conclusions as Cole.

“Yeah, right. I’m here losing it and I’m not the one who’s spent the last three months making cow eyes at him.”

“There have been no cow eyes.”

Sera snorted and grabbed the bucket. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. There were cow eyes, from both of you. Inky better survive, he might be able to one up you on scars now.”

“Indeed, the Iron Bull should be worried about competition.”

Sera giggled. “He’s gonna to be alright?”

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, just a bit too close to dying for comfort.” She finished pulling her arrows out of the bucket.

“What about your ear?” It was swollen by now and Cassandra could see blotchy red patches on Sera’s face.

“Didn’t wanna worry ‘em with it when I thought Inky was gonna die.” She gingerly rubbed it.

“Get it looked at, you don’t want it getting infected.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sera jammed the bucket back onto the rock and marched back to her spot. As Cassandra walked back into the camp she could hear the arrows quickly and calmly finding their targets.


	2. Chapter 2

The three soldiers stationed at the camp aside from Oda were clustered around the potion station attempting to look like they were being productive and not at all gossiping when she walked past them. Cole hadn’t moved from his position directly in front of the tent entrance.

Cassandra was tempted to return to the makeshift infirmary but there was nothing she could do and she needed to check over her own injuries. She ducked in the dormitory tent they had been using while chasing the dragon for Frederic de Serault and sat on a slightly saggy cot to strip off her armor. Dried blood flaked off her gantlets but it was all the dragon’s, not hers.  She could feel a map of bruises beginning to form across her skin but nothing felt broken, not even her ribs where the dragon caught her with its tail and punted her several yards. Dagna may be slightly unsettling but she could make an excellent breastplate.

Breastplate, of course.

Others had to know about Mahanon…having unique anatomy.

Dagna probably knew. She had fitted him for enough armor that she would have noticed. Cole knew and most likely always knew. Suddenly the amount of time Mahanon spent chatting with Lieutenant Aclassi made more sense, which meant The Iron Bull most likely knew as well. Adan and Solas were the ones who cared for him in Haven which would explains why Mahanon and Solas always shared a tent in the field. Varric was his other consistent tentmate, though Cassandra was at a loss on how or why the dwarf would know. He tended to know a lot things he shouldn’t and kept a similar number of secrets. She assumed Clan Lavellan knew and now the list included Oda and Evie. Going over the list in her head, it was a worrying number of people.

While it wasn’t unheard of, Mahanon’s condition was hardly a widely recognized one. There was the story of Ameline the Stalwart but histories regarding her were hotly debated in this age. Besides, not even the tragic allegory of a strange Chanter could compete with the opposing theories of demon possession or illnesses of the brain. Whatever the truth was, Mahanon’s situation becoming common knowledge wouldn’t help the Inquisition. The tangled world of reputations and public images was never something that Cassandra enjoyed in her time as Most Holy’s right hand but she respected its power.

If this broke, damage control would not be as easy as simply denying it. Mahanon was a private person and had kept this secret for a reason. Being dragged into the public eye over something like this would destroy him.

Cassandra unwrapped her braid and began to redo it, just to give her hands something to do. Judging by Oda’s reaction, the dwarf didn’t care but Evie… Cassandra didn’t know the woman. The mage seemed like she wouldn’t be inclined to keep this quiet without serious persuasion.

But all this was just distraction from why Evie had found out in the first place. The image of Mahanon’s burned back stuck in her mind’s eye. He had survived so far but burns rarely took their victims in the short term. He would be in no condition to move anywhere from a few hours to a week, depending on Evie’s skills. And they were in an inhospitable desert surrounded by beasts and sand. Her breath stuck in her throat as his scream repeated in her memory.

Mahanon’s singed flesh, Most Holy captured by Corypheus, Anthony yelling at her to run as the blood mages bore down on him…

_Please, Maker, don’t make me lose him as well._

Even if Mahanon didn’t believe he had been chosen, she did. Whether by the Maker or by circumstance, he was the one who would stop the Breach. Surely he couldn’t die.

The tent flap rose, bringing her back to the present. Evie had already dropped her bag and begun to strip off her over robe when she realized there was someone else in the tent. The mage froze and for a second Cassandra could see dread written on her face. Even after the emotionless mask of a circle mage returned, the healer looked exhausted.

“I’ll let you rest.” Cassandra rose. Evie acknowledged her with a nod and collapsed on a cot.

Back in the open air camp and without her armor, Cassandra felt especially exposed. It was entirely in her head but the camp seemed far more unwelcoming without an extra layer of physical protection between her and the world. Thankfully, the world didn’t fall apart any more than it already had as Cassandra crossed the open sand to Mahanon’s tent. Cole was nowhere to be seen.

Oda acknowledged her with a grunt and went back to carefully swaddling Mahanon’s back with fresh, dry bandages. She was working from the bottom up which left Mahanon’s shoulders currently exposed. He was still burned but there were large, uneven ‘footprints’ where blisters had had formed and started to heal. Evie’s magic had made more progress than she was expecting.

“I’m going to need another set of hands to help me with this.” Oda jerked her head at the last of Mahanon’s exposed skin.

“What do you need me to do?” Cassandra already had a pretty good idea of what was needed.

“Lift his shoulders when I tell you. I need to secure the bandages across his chest.”

For all that Oda claimed she was unfamiliar with elvhen anatomy, she knew what she was doing. The dwarf skillfully fashioned spaulders-like bandage to cover Mahanon’s shoulders then looped more cloth around Mahanon’s shoulder blades and neck. Her work covered the entirety of his burned skin efficiently without restricting his windpipe or pinching. Of course, to do this Oda needed to crisscross Mahanon’s chest with bandages. That’s what Cassandra’s help came in.

Unfortunately, this meant Cassandra fully confirmed that Mahanon did have breasts. They were petite, though not by elven standards, but undeniably there. It was hardly the first time she had seen a comrade in arms with less than full dress. Aside from the memorable incident that involved Daniel being slightly impaled with a staff blade to the buttock, Cassandra could say she kept a straight face and stayed professional in such situations.  

This, however, felt more like a violation. His unconscious state and the fact that this was the most exposed she had ever seen him played into it but Mahanon was a private person, both emotionally and physically. Now, that reservation made more sense.

“You do good work.” Cassandra complimented Oda when they finished.

“Good for the circumstances.” Oda shrugged. “He’s not at risk now, as long as we keep infection from setting in. We still need to risk moving him. This is no place to recover.”

“Griffin’s Wing?”

Oda nodded. “It’s closest, but not perfect. He’ll be out for a while longer,” she jerked her head at the empty bottle of Somniferum sap “and I wanna give him a few hours before trying anything but, yeah; Griffin’s Wing.” She shrugged again. Cassandra was getting the impression that bedside manner wasn’t Oda’s strong suit.

“Will the cart here work well enough?”

“It wouldn’t be comfortable but it would be better than another litter.”

Cassandra nodded and began to mentally calculate how long it would take a slow-moving cart to reach the keep. It truly wasn’t that far away but the sand between the camp and the relative comfort of the keep was filled with animals and the occasional lingering Venatori, not to mention the obstacles presented by the environment itself.

“I’m going for water.” Oda interrupted her thoughts. “For myself, I mean. There’s not much more we can do for him know. Wanna join?”

“I’ll stay.” Cassandra declined her offer.

Oda looked like she was about to say more but grunted and ducked out of the tent.

Cassandra pulled the lone wicker chair in the tent closer to the table and sat. Mahanon wouldn’t be conscious for hours and she trusted in the work of the healers but extra caution never hurt. Sera joined her before Oda returned. Her first instinct was to make an excuse or simply order Sera to leave but a glance over at Mahanon confirmed that nothing incriminating showed.

“You in here? Makes sense.” Sera snorted. She dropped onto the bench across from Cassandra and folded her legs underneath her.

“The healers believe he will make it through the night but we need to move him to Griffon’s Wing soon.” Cassandra reported.

“And we’re not doing that now?”

“Oda wants to wait. I believe she wants to make sure no infection will set in.”

“So we’re waiting..” She rubbed her cheek then rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m in here aren’t I? I’ll ask the dwarfy lady to look at it when she comes back.”

The Anchor on Mahanon’s bare hand flared. The green light flickered in the silent tent but died out as quickly as it had appeared. Cassandra watched his face for any sign of change but none came. He lay still and calm, as if the mark had done nothing at all.

“Cassandra,” Sera spoke again.

“Yes?”

The elf fidgeted a bit. “Were you in here when she was wrapping him up?” She jerked her head at Mahanon but didn’t look at her.

“Yes. I helped Oda after the mage left.” She had a sinking suspicion about where this was going.

“So you saw how bad his back was? And his torso in general?”

“You knew.”

“About?” Sera gave a little wave to her chest. “Yeah. Wait, you didn’t? But, cow eyes ‘n all?”

Cassandra pursed her lips but didn’t reply.

“Right. Huh. Interesting.”

“Sera.”

“He didn’t tell me. If that makes it better. I kinda uh, pantsed him. It was awkward.”

“You pantsed the Inquisitor.”

“Yeah. Would’ve been a whole lot funnier if; you know.”

“When and where did this happen?” Adding Sera to the list of people who knew was one thing. Adding potentially the entire populace of The Herald’s Rest was another.

“Couple months ago? We were out in the Hissing Wastes with Solas and Bull. It was the middle of the night and freezing and- It seemed like a good idea.” She huffed. “He made the best noise. So Elfy and Bull know, too, if you’re worried about that.”

“I assumed as much.”

“Yeah, they both knew.”

Cassandra sighed and leaned forward in her chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sera running the ties of her wrist guard through her fingers.

“Sera, when you pants someone-”

“It was a bad pantsing, okay!” She threw her hands up. “There was some smalls in there, too. I’m sorry I saw his bits before you.”

“Sera that’s not-”

“It was really uncomfortable. And then Bull talked to me and it was terrifying. Bull’s scary when he wants to be. Like-” She made lined her hands up on the sides of her head and growled. “Real scary.” Then she giggled.

“What’s so funny.”

“I saw his bits before you.”

Cassandra glared at her.

“Also got to see him accidentally moon a gurn.”

The tent flap dropped back into place and Oda stood at the mouth of the tent looking slightly disturbed and holding a hard roll.

“Hey, healer person? My face hurts.” Sera ignored the dwarf’s perplexed expression.

Oda sighed, put her roll on the table, and began an inspection of Sera’s face.

\--

They left when the sun was just above the horizon. The long shadows cast by the dunes gave the illusion that parts of the ground had fallen out of existence. Oda levered herself up into the driver’s seat after helping in carrying Mahanon, still unconscious, to the back of the cart. Evie mumbled something about keeping an eye on him and hopped in as well. Sera stuck close to her as they walked alongside of the cart and Cole….was somewhere nearby. Oda slapped the chart horse to action and they began the slow trip to Griffin’s Wing Keep.

Sera had evidentially already decided she didn’t like Evie. She kept shooting the redheaded mage dirty looks and didn’t answer when Evie asked them how aggressive Quillbacks were. They found out soon enough any way. Her usual battle-high running commentary had noticeably more foul language and markedly less laughter.

“What did the mage say to you last night.” Cassandra demanded once the cart was moving again. Evie had made a fuss about putting a ‘bloody bleeding dirty beast’ next to Mahanon but was outvoted when Oda promised her a pair of gloves from the hide.

Sera didn’t answer her question at first. “Prolly just didn’t wanna sit next to something that wasn’t roses and velvet. Prissy little pig-nosed arse.” She spat and glared with somehow more vehemence.

Cassandra was half way to defending the mage when she bit her tongue. “I saw you speaking with her around the dinner fire. She said something, clearly.”

“She’s a noble, you know that?” Sera evaded the question again. “A Marcher who thinks she’s too good to be mucking around getting sand in her boots.”

Cassandra gritted her teeth and kept walking as Sera traced her fingers along the edge of her wrist guard.

“She just- the way she was talking about- _things._ Like she knew what was what better than us and specifically me. Practically hear her catching her herself say ‘savage’ went she meant Dalish. I tried to tell her his elfy word for it and she nearly grew an extra nose just to look down at me. Another stupid squashed nose.”

Aside from an interesting image, Sera’s mention of an ‘elfy-word’ stuck out.

“I’m assuming that was an ‘elfy word’ he used after the incident-”

“The gurn mooning, yeah. ‘Hand ass’? Something like that.” Sera shrugged.

It almost certainly wasn’t ‘hand ass’ but that was the closest Cassandra had.

“Did she give any indication that she would consider spreading news of Mahanon’s-”

“ _Thing_?” Sera waved her hands vaguely _“_ ‘Hand assiness’? Dunno. Don’t think so. She does and I’ll have ‘words’ with her. And by words-”

“You mean arrows. I caught that.”

“Or a flight of stairs or somethin’. I mean. I don’t get it, sure, but; fine, you know? Kinda wished I knew before. Not sayin’ I’d do anything, ‘specially in front of you but- makes you wonder. I mean, he has kids, yeah? Little elfys.”

“Two. One’s adopted.” Cassandra had already poured over every detail she knew about Mahanon’s life in Clan Lavellan last night. It had been a very long night.

“But _one_ , yeah. That’s one short of two.”

“And Vivienne claims you’re uneducated.”

Sera blew a long raspberry and made a rude gesture.

“Imma talk to Oda. Let’s see if I can make Snooty walk.” She took a running leap and landed on the cart next to Oda.

“Stretch your legs a bit, mage. I need a rest.”

Evie didn’t move for a long moment but carefully hoped out of the slow moving chart and began to walk beside her. Cassandra didn’t start a conversation and neither did Evie. Sera’s chatter at Oda filled the air instead as they crossed the swirling sands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonized over this chapter, which is why it's so delayed.  
> The final (very short chapter) will be up on the 1st.

Griffin’s Wing Keep, despite existing in constant, punishing sun, was a cold place. It wasn’t damp and dreary like Caer Bronach in Crestwood or as bitingly cold as Skyhold’s ramparts but the paradox of it made the cold seem worse. After a childhood used to burning Nevarran mausoleums, something in her was insulted by the idea of a cold desert.

And the cold wasn’t any better when everyone in the keep was quietly wondering if their Inquisitor was going to die. Evie and Oda were confident that he wasn’t but that didn’t calm the fears of the soldiers. The Herald of Andraste had gained a near god-like image- much to Mahanon’s dismay- but gods didn’t bleed. Seeing him carried into the keep on a stretcher had shaken faiths. She could see it in how they whispered to each other.

What they needed was proof that their cause wasn’t going to fail. The only way she could deliver that, aside from miraculously getting Mahanon back to his feet herself, was to appear unshaken and solid. She was the right hand of the Divine and had learned to hide her fears and doubts even if she hated ‘the Game’.

They had reached the keep at midday and Captain Rylen had more than enough business to fill the rest of the daylight hours. Artifact reports and troop evaluations, requisitions for better armor, supplies, or weapons, it was not what a Seeker was trained to do but it was what she did. She had just about finished  a letter to the University of Orlais asking for more on de Sault’s work when Sera walked into the make-shift office she was using.

Walked; not swaggered or burst or barged in. Sera just _walked_ in and that said a great deal.

“Still in here?”

“Yes.”

“I can see that.” The elf huffed. “I’m asking why?”

Cassandra capped her ink well. “Because there is work to do and I can’t help the Inquisitor any more at this point.”

“He woke up but whatever.” Sera rolled her eyes. “Glad to hear you’re doing what’s best for Inky.”

Sera stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Cassandra continued to twist the inkwell’s cap in her fingers. Mahanon returning to consciousness was good news- excellent news, if she was honest with herself. He probably didn’t need anymore people bothering him at this point and she should probably continue working. She rotated the inkwell in her fingers again, ready to twist the cap the opposite direction  and resume her work. It would be for the best if she gave him more time to recover before speaking with him. It would be for the best if she gave herself more time to sort out how she felt on the subject. It would be for the best if she finished editing this request form.

Cassandra stood and began to clean her writing supplies.

-

She could hear Cole speaking as she drew closer to the infirmary.

“It’s hard. I can’t see them. It’s like they aren’t real.”

“Depends on how you look at it. What does the captain say next?”

“I don’t know. I can only see the words.”

“That’s what I wanted.”

“Oh. Let me find my place again.”

Cassandra pushed the cracked door fully open before Cole could resume reading. The spirit was crouched on the edge of a chair next to Mahanon’s bed with a copy of one of Varric’s books in his hands. Mahanon was indeed awake. He was flat on his belly and covered in blankets and bandages but he was awake and talking with Cole. Relief stole the tension from her shoulders. Mahanon had to crane his neck strangely to see her enter the private room but when he did, a smile spread over his face.

“You don’t want me to read this to you anymore.” Cole announced.

“Not at the moment, no.”

Cole nodded and unfolded himself from the chair. The spirit slinked through the open door way and shut it quietly behind himself. Cassandra took his place and braced herself for the conversation to come. Mahanon watched her with a lazy smile on his face.

“You seem to be smiling a great deal for someone who was on fire earlier today.”

Mahanon shrugged, though it was really more of a slight movement of his shoulders, due to his strange position.

“How are you?” He asked. “Sera and Cole have been in here but I haven’t seen you.”

“I am fine. Bruised and sore but fine.”

“That’s good.” He was still smiling broadly but his eyes were a bit unfocused.

“Are you in pain at all?” She suspected not.

“Not at all. I don’t know how much they gave me but I feel very…loose.” He attempted a gesture with one hand. She could tell what it was meant to be.

Mahanon giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Not funny exactly. If I ever catch on fire again, I hope I can count on you being there. You were very far away and then you were right next to me.”

“Yes, well, you were _on fire_ , Inquisitor.”

“Still made me feel all nice and warm inside. And not because I was on fire.” Mahanon frowned. “We’re you…Did you stick around when I was in the healer’s tent?”

“Yes.” She had no idea how to broach the subject of what she had seen in the healer’s tent.

“Oh, did you see…”

“Yes. Sera referred to something that isn’t called ‘Hand Ass’.”

“ _Han’nas_. Yes, that’s the word we use. And ‘Hand Ass’ is absolutely something that Sera would say. Do shemlen…” He didn’t seem to know what words to use.

“”Do humans..?” She prompted.

“It’s not something that is talked about, is it?” He finished. “I know that Krem is fairly open, especially about why he’s not in Tevinter and won’t be going back but that’s to tell people he’s Not Your Usual Tevinter. Do you have a word for people like me?”

Aside from a few words reserved for brothels and crude comedy acts? “No,”

“Ah, that’s … weird.” Mahanon frowned.

“But what does han’nas _mean_?” A bit of her frustration leaked into her voice.

‘What does it mean for us?’ That question was on the tip of her tongue but she forced herself to stay quiet and wait for his answer.

“It means ‘two soul’, by our best translation.” Mahanon said quietly. “We have written records off han’nas people as old as the most ancient records of Arlathan. It’s an old word and we only know some of what it used to mean for the Elvhenan but it means…well, you saw didn’t you?”

“You’re a man but you’re- you were born…” She struggled for the words that would be accurate yet true.

“I was born as my sister’s twin.” Mahanon finished. “Or, I was born with the ability to have children of my own. There’s really no better way to describe it in Common?”

She shook her head. “So han’nas is Elvish for someone like you or Lieutenant Aclassi?”

“Or lots of people. One’s born like sons but end up as daughters, one who aren’t either. Elvhen has an entire system of pronouns and verb conjugations that Common doesn’t included. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised han’nas was translatable.” He shivered. “Can you bring me another blanket?”

Cassandra draped another woolen blanket over his figure. He smiled slightly and his eyes drooped a bit. His skin looked ashy and clammy, a sure sign of somniferum. He was drugged and tired and recovering from a serious injury. Asking hard questions now would be unfair. But…

“Did you have any plans to tell me?”

His eyes inched open and took a moment to focus on her.

“No. I wanted to but I didn’t know how to begin. I’ve never had do so before. Cassandra, I’ve lived my entire life with in my clan where is was always just accepted. Even after the Conclave, everyone who knows already found out without my help except Krem and that was different.”

Cole’s whispers about regrets returned to her mind.

“I see,” Part of her wanted to leave and slash at a dummy until her head cleared but she also wanted to stay simply to remain by his side.

Mahanon frowned. “This won’t…”

“Won’t what?”

Mahanon sat up.

Her first instinct was to catch him so he wouldn’t injure himself further. Her second gut reaction was to look away out of a sense of propriety. But- she was curious and Mahanon’s next words decided it for her.

“There. Now I’ve told you.”

She met his eye. “Not the most subtle of decisions.”

“No.” Mahanon frowned. “I think- I think I’ve been given a fair amount of something.”

 “Somniferum. I can lower inhibitions.” She kept her eyes focused on his face.

“That would explain-” He looked down and frowned. She followed his gaze.

And it was a strange disconnect, as if Mahanon had never had a torso until know and her head was trying to catch up. A narrow neck merged into wiry shoulders with irritated red patches. Shoulders turned to ribs which ended with a slight curve to the waist. One long, straight scar crossed his abdomen just below the navel and cut across jagged, pale stretch marks. Further down was a crop of black hair that she would not look at any further and above…

It was a strange sight for her to have not noticed earlier in her inspection. She had seen breasts everyday since adolescence and know barracks-mates, courtesans, and the horrors of wars just as long. This though, this was different. This was Mahanon.

“Cassandra, I’m going to lay back down now.” He wrapped the blankets around his shoulders and pulled up one leg onto his cot.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “That was inappropriate.”

“You did tell me.” She conceded.

He half-smiled. “I did, didn’t I? I should have done that earlier. Does this change…things?”

“Things?”

“Between us? I know I’m hardly the dashing stubble-jawed prince from romance covers.”

‘Cows eyes’ as Sera put it. Would this change things? Cassandra wanted to leave, to clear her head with a good hard bashing of something or someone. She  was conflicted and confused but truly- She felt concern for Mahanon’s injuries but the only change was she knew more about him and had proof that he trusted her.

“Yes, I changes things. It shows that you trust me.”

Mahanon’s smile lit up his whole face and she felt her mouth move it match it.

“Do you mind if I…” He tilted forward. She leaned to catch him if he fell. Rather, he ran his hand over her cheekbone. Relief and surprise and affection-  She leaned the rest of the way in and rested her forehead against his.  His lips were chapped and nervous but so were hers.

 For once, Griffin’s Wing Keep felt warm.

 

It was a long journey back to Skyhold and every night she found a fresh flower on her bedroll’s pillow.


	4. Epilouge

By the time Corypheus was cast screaming into the Fade, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast had learned that Mahanon had a tendency to defy expectation. She had expected him to struggle with the complex machinations of the Orlesian court, expected him to embrace the growing reverence of savior-like Inquisitor, and expected him to condemn her aspirations for the sunburst throne. But her favorite unexpected development was that, under his calm and reserved demeanor, Mahanon loved deeply and expressed that outwardly.

He accredited it to living in a Dalish clan his whole life where physical affection was as natural as breathing. It became normal for her to see him and Sera in her room with their legs tangled together as the younger elf spun some possibly-true story for him or for the two of them to share a blanket on the roof. The first few times Dorian jumped when Mahanon draped himself over the Tevinter’s shoulders and asked about his current book, but only the first few. Vivienne was a near polar opposite but welcomed him to her balcony salons and would walk arm in arm with him the gardens to discuss her advise on the courts. Josephine seemed to appreciate the fact that he preferred to be curled up on her couch with a warm blanket when she gave him political briefings. Once Mahanon trusted you, and you trusted him, physical affection was his preferred way of expressing that affection.

For her, this meant a soft chest pressed against her back or slim legs tangled with her own or deceptively strong arms wrapped around her as they pretended the world didn’t exist outside of their bed.

She liked to linger in the warm place between waking and sleep when she could. It was easy enough to do here. The Inquisitor’s chambers were slightly cool but the quilts and furs on the bed were more than enough to combat that. She lay on her side absently staring out the window with one foot hung out over the edge of the bed. The cool air felt wonderfully refreshing.

The other side of the mattress shifted and Mahanon came into her field of view as he approached the south facing window. He leaned against the window frame and looked up at the green auroras the Breach left in the sky. From this angle, Cassandra could see the full extent of his scarred back. The marred pink skin stretched from his neck to his waist in an uneven, mottled pattern. Occasionally, he complained of the skin feeling tight or of it itching in the cold but that was merely irritation and they had survived the death of the Abyssal High Dragon with a closer relationship as the true consequence.

Mahanon stretched and shivered slightly. The floor must have been freezing against his bare feet but she was hardly one to complain about the view.

“You are thinking about something.” She yawned.

Mahanon turned back to face her in the bed.

“I was thinking that you were still asleep.”

“I’m not awake, if that’s what you are asking.”

He laughed and returned to the bed. His legs and feet were cold when he slotted into the space behind her and wrapped himself around her but his chest and face were still warm.

“We could wake up again, if you want to?”

She found the hand resting against her abdomen and laced her fingers into his.

“Stay here for a bit longer.”

“As long as we can, _samahl_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this piece quite a while ago partly because I wanted to write something about the Cassandra romance, mostly because I wanted to write something for myself. I'm trans and boy howdy is that anxiety inducing when romance is on the table. This fic had the happy ending that I wanted to believe was possible for myself.  
> The good news is since I started writing this, I've met someone who loves me for who I am, gender and all. I didn't even need a dragon to come out.


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